Not a good killer.
I was never any good at fighting. In fact, I'm terrible at it. A one-hundred and twenty pound teenager is more than likely not going to be taking down anyone, even with a hatchet. But a sword however does happen to work. I love the deep web, I really do. Weapons without background checks being the main reason. I carried a hatchet around with me. A small hatchet, of course. More of a tool than a weapon. I like the er, "spooks" as you might call it, and yes I'm aware that I act fairly edgey. I walk around in forests, alleyways, and other su chj places in the middle of the night. I had always wondered what it would be like to kill people. I'd read so much about it and watched it on a little website I found while digging around on M ariana's web. It interested me. The first time I'd seen it I found it disgusting, but after a while I started wanting to go back. I wanted to see it again. And again,,, And again It was a gruesome sight, but it had a certain, '' beauty'' to it.. Unfortunately, I couldn't do it myself. I was weak and although I owned a small hatchet it was heavy, and not right for me. One night, as usual I was walking through an alleyway. I wasn't all that far from my home. Maybe ab out a mile. Something felt... off. I was clutching the hatchet I had strapped to my belt. I looked around sparatically when I met crossways, open roads, and other things. Of course, it was dark. Very dark. I just wanted to get a snack at a fucking gas station. I took this route rarely, I don't like familiarity. BUt maybe now I'll stick to my normal routes...Moving on, There was a slick sounding scuff on the cement behind me. Someone grabbed me from behind, I had a short shirt on and a somewhat provogative outfit otherwise. I was told it would protect me from rape. People usually go after people who don't look confident. I turned around, and kicked the man in the knee. The hatchet was off the belt and in my hand before I could even get a ood look at him. -SHIRK- Oh my god... I killed a man... It was self def ense... right? I... I think it was... I don't know why he followed me though... I... Ugh... I don't like it. It's awful. I thought I would like it but... I don't. The terrible CRACK of the bones, the sploshing of blood.... It's sickening when you feel it in your hands. The police let me off with a warning. I went too far they said, it's OKAY th ey said. Like hell it is. I'm not a killer. I don't like the thought of killing, This isn't your typical story where I go bat shit insane. Quite the opposite. If I were to kill, it'd be sociopothy. I damn sure know right from wrong. In most stories your character is a mar y-sue perfect. Beautiful, sexy, has no reason to wear skimpy clothes, Other such things. Not me. Not me at all. I have a reason to wear clothes. I'm not pretty in the slightest. Most of them have a "tragic past". Not me. My life is pretty damn swell. I have a few close fr iends, a few enemies as you m ight expect. I'm normal. But... I just... Lost control... To the parents of ''-Redacted-... I'm very sorry for your loss.'' Category:Creepypasta Category:Creepypastas Category:Original Story Category:Real Life